


DAI drabbles

by ViperAssassin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Asexual Character, Fluff, Gen, I myself cannot handle it, Matchmaking, Probably gonna be some angst later on too, SI story, Self Insert, Stranger in a Strange Land, Trans Character, Varric is tina, Varric writes friendfiction, and some cuddles, dorian needs love, he just needs a hug, help me, i know i'm shocked too, inqui is ace, inquisitor and Varric are matchmaking bros, inquisitor is lovely, its a work in progress tbh, just two guy friends being dudes, my teeth have all rotten from writing this, no it totally is what am I saying, or a not so strange land lmao, sort of...?, such horrendous fluff, surprisingly, technically, this actually isn't slash, transgender character, welcome to my dai drabble collection, what a guy, which I'm writing as I try to actually write the story they go to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperAssassin/pseuds/ViperAssassin
Summary: A collection of drabbles I'm slowly acquiring as I make my way through the perilous journey of trying to smoosh them all together and write a cohesive story... it's a work in progress, give me a break.





	1. the Warden

**Author's Note:**

> this has gone entirely unbeta'd and it's probably gonna stay that way. Same for any future drabbles I add on to this eventually. I just write madly as my brain gives me what it comes up with, and tend to miss a lot of spelling mistakes and what not. Eh. Hope you like I guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen at Adamant. That's it, I guess.

The rift stitched closed behind them, their hand crackling green with a stinging sensation running up their arm. Unlike other times, though, the usual pain was vastly dulled in comparison to more serious injuries that whined for their attention.

 

And there was cheering. Lots of it.

  
They turned to see the battlefield and realized that everyone was looking toward them, triumphant victory beaming from their proud smiles.

  
Their eyes widened imperceptibly, and the Inquisitor hastily stashes his beloved blades back into their sheathes.

  
“Inquisitor!” A soldier cried, running over to greet him. He felt an impossible warmth flood his chest at the happily relieved look on the man's face. It was directed entirely at him. “The arch demon flew off as soon as you arrived. The Venatori magister is unconscious, but alive... Commander Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself, your worship.”

  
Though the soldier didn't look to happy about it. None of them did. Most of them looked like they'd rather rip Erimond apart themselves. The Inquisitor was just surprised that Clarel hadn't murdered the man with her staff. After all, she hadn't been interrupted by the dragon this time, right?

  
Speaking of Clarel…

  
Before he could ask after her, however, the Warden in the winged armor he'd always admired stepped forward beside the soldier.

  
“As for the Wardens- -those not corrupted helped us fight off the demons.”

  
“We stand at the ready, your worship, to make up for our tragic mistake in any way that we can.” The Warden announced, fist over heart and voice just as heartbroken as it had always sounded in this scene. 

 

Actually, hearing it in person was almost like another stab the stomach. The Inquisitor placed a careful hand over the torso wound, a small frown flitting across his face. Both the soldier and the Warden looked about ready to ask if he was alright, but he beat them to it- -

  
“Where is Clarel?” He asked, pressing his hand down firmly. It stung- -by God did it sting- -but it would work to lessen the blood flow. As it was, he was currently- -well, gushing…

  
The Warden and the Inquisition soldier exchanged glances. “She is with Cullen, your worship.” The soldier replied.

  
“We give our full and unconditional surrender,” the Warden added uneasily.

  
“A surrender that will be taken into account,” the Inquisitor assured him. He tried to think back to the cutscene, and the words spoken. He'd rather not ruffle any feathers now; not after the night these poor people have had. He paused. “... Clarel has agreed to this?”

  
The Warden glanced down at the ground, shifting on his feet. “Clarel’s stepped down from her position in wake of our surrender. We've no one left of any significant rank. Inquisitor, what do we do now?”

  
Not exactly what he'd been expecting. Of course, he couldn't rely on his memories of cutscenes and gameplay so directly; by now he'd come to realize just how much his own choices affected even the littlest of things in this world. He hadn't anticipated her actually… resigning? To be fair, though, Clarel wasn't even suppose to be alive right now. In the original story, she'd died taking that dragon head on, all by her lonesome out of some twisted desire to make a last ditch attempt of redemption. All it had seemed to him, personally, was a selfish bid for a last chance at glory.

  
That didn't mean he hadn't already made up his mind about the Wardens, though. No, he'd made his decision about this particular event long before he'd even met Hawke and heard the words “Adamant” and “the Calling.”

  
Which is why he didn't pause; didn't take the time to even think anymore about it.

  
“You stay. You do everything you can to help. The Inquisition needs strong warriors, and you could use a just cause in which to redeem yourselves of this… tragic mistake.” He settled on quoting the Warden’s own words. To his surprise, the man actually blushed, and looked down again to hide his face behind his helmet. Aw.

  
“We are still at war, and while this has been a sound victory, the Venatori are most certainly still at large… and, of course, there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

  
The Warden’s head snapped up, and he gaze up at him with suspiciously shiny eyes. “Thank you, your worship.” He replied, voice thick. “We will not fail you.”

  
An incredibly gentle smile on his weary face, the Inquisitor replied, “I don't expect you to.”

  
Hawke spoke up then, saying something about informing the Whitehold Wardens of the present events, but the Inquisitor frowned as his hearing began to go out once again. That was odd; he was alive still, right, of course, Hawke wouldn't be talking to him if he wasn't…

  
He took an unconscious step forward as the Champion of Kirkwall was still speaking, causing the man to pause mid-sentence, and everyone to stare.

  
“Inquisitor, are you alright?” The Warden (the sweet and kind Warden with the lovely voice who felt so bad for his people’s mistake, and who the Inquisitor might have the smallest, tiniest of crushes on) stepped forward, sounding almost afraid. Afraid of what? Or possible, for whom? Him?

  
He didn't say anything for a moment, bowing his head and focusing on getting air into his lungs. After a moment of this, he looked up.

  
...Perhaps they were right to worry.  
“Maybe.” He allowed. Then he bit his lip. “Probably… Ah, do me a favor?”

  
The Warden straightened. “Anything for you, Inquisitor!”

  
… (Yeah, he definitely had a crush on this guy.)

  
“Catch me, will you?”

  
There were confused sounds all around, which turned into startled shouts as the Inquisitor’s eyes rolled toward the back of his head, and he slumped forward into a dead faint.

  
The Warden, as promised, caught him.

  
“Inquisitor!”


	2. Matching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds out something surprising(or not so surprising, now that he thinks about it) about the Inquisitor.

His eyes ran across the curving, blotted script, trying to divulge the secrets within. The parchment was rough in his hands, a material not unlike leather and sandpaper; something that had definitely taken getting used to. He himself still wasn't able to write without wearing gloves, for fear the material would rub the skin from his hand.

  
The Inquisitor lifted a hand to rub wearily at his eye, making sure to keep it out of Cullen’s line of sight.

 

The commander was walking next to him, posture pristine and hands folded neatly behind his back as he orated the more finer details of the report to him. The younger man felt a vague sense of both irritation and envy- -irritation at himself, for not being able to look so tall and confident and assured at every moment of the day; envy towards Cullen, because, well- -he was.

  
Still, it wasn't right to begrudge the blonde ex-Templar for something so mundane as his poise. He did it well, and he kept up appearances, and he was so very dedicated to making sure the troops and their dealings were all kept in order; going as far as to essentially read aloud nearly all his personal reports to him. The very makings of a good commander.

 

Honestly, the Inquisitor couldn't have asked for a more capable leader for the men.

  
Despite all this silent and unspoken praise, he felt his eyes shift to the side, slowly- -as if they'd grown bored all in their own right and were, themselves, searching desperately for a distraction. It was frustrating, because the report was actually something he felt he needed to know the ins and outs of. When Cullen had approached him in hopes of discussing it, he'd been all levels of grateful. He was still trying to get the hang of this entire “leadership” thing. Running an Inquisition so it worked like a well oiled machine(or even just a machine that worked at all) was so much more complicated than the Bioware game developers had made it seem. He almost felt cheated, but then considered; if they'd put all the details (down to the very last fine detail of the nitty gritty politics and the handling of supplies and the currying of favorable alliances) of running such an organization into the game, well… no one would have wanted to play it.

  
As it was, he himself was about ready to start tearing at his hair.

  
He tried to focus on the strategic babble about combating Chantry whipster campaigns (“I urge you to speak with Josephine on this front, Inquisitor, as she’s been very insistent as of late on a conversation with you to discuss any tactics you might have in mind.”) and locating the basis for any Venatori mentions that their agents had been sending in over the past month- -really, he did. This stuff was important! It could mean life and death, for some scout or soldier unit out there who was affiliated with his Inquisition. Someone whose safety he was, therefore, responsible for.

  
But as Cullen’s smooth voice sailed over an explanation for this plan or other, his traitorous wandering eyes caught sight of something that sent all of these mental reasoning careening out of sight and mind.

 

Without a second thought, the Inquisitor left Cullen still speaking, and very nearly threw himself out the window in order to get a better view.

  
Lakewater eyes narrowed decisively as they tracked the movements of a young man pushing through the crowds in the square far below. He was cautiously approaching a seamstress’ stall from the side, pushing aside the hanging curtains to reveal a young women his own age, with dark skin and a bright, toothy smile.  
The two young adults delved into a low-voiced conversation, both seemingly oblivious to the large, widening grins on both their faces. The man, an apprentice to one of the steelsmiths in the northern alleys, moved forward to give the woman a carefully wrapped package. He leaned in closer to try and derive its contents.

  
“...tried looking at it from every angle, but Leliana agreed that there was just no other option but to- -Inquisitor?” Cullen interrupted himself to look back for him, now quite a way ahead down the corridor.

  
The blond turned around to watch the leader of the Inquisition nearly throw himself out the tall and towering window, a look of absolute confusion on the commander’s face.

  
Taking in a short breath, the head of the Inquisitor’s military forces retraced his steps to stand beside the younger man, who ignored his presence in favor of trying to gets better look at- -whatever it was he was trying to look at.

  
Cullen frowned. “...Ah, Inquisitor- ”

  
He broke of into a startled yelp when said Inquisitor reached back to snag him by the back of the collar and, without even looking at him, drug him along until they were hiding behind the window’s carved sill, out of sight of any prying eyes.

  
“Shhh!” The young man hushed him, hazel eyes peering intensely down at the square below.

  
Cullen let out a quietly aggravated sigh, before shaking his head and deciding to see what it was that has so utterly captured the man’s attention. He migrated to the opposite side of the window, feeling absolutely foolish for hiding behind corners like some scoundrel in the night, and followed the Inquisitor’s line of sight with his own eyes to find… a young couple just outside the seamstress’ station in one of the marketing squares, talking to one another and laughing as they shared a loaf of bread.

  
Cullen stared at them for a moment, recognizing the girl as one of the new arrivals to Skyhold, a part of the massive pilgrimage that Leliana’s sources said was just beginning to kick off. The boy was wearing a rather sooty smithies apron.

  
The blonde allowed a frown to cross his brow, and let his eyes wander around the couple for signs of anything that was more noteworthy of his attention. He was only more puzzled when he realized there wasn't anything out of place. No dark robes or hooded fiends or assassins skipping from shadow to shadow. Just a relatively normal day at the market.

  
Bewildered, he turned back to his colleague. “Inquisitor- “

  
He was once again cut off as the younger male suddenly let out a drawn-out, frustrated groan, and very nearly sank to his knees with a put out expression decorating his face. Cullen watched him, utterly bemused, before turning back to see that the smithy and the seamstress were breaking apart to go their separate ways once more. He shook his head and moved forward to haul the Inquisitor to his feet.

  
“Sir, may I ask what exactly is going on here?”

  
Two eyes, so like the depth of the sea, turned immediately on to him and widened. The Inquisitor’s face tinged pink along high cheekbones, and he raked a gloved hand through strawberry hair sheepishly, tugging the usually impeccable locks loose from their tie.

  
“Oh, um- I'm sorry, Cullen. I didn't mean to- to just ignore you like that, or anything! I was just- “ The man shot a rather helpless looking gaze back to the market square, growing even more agitated when he took note that both of the young couple were out of sight now.

  
Cullen examined him closely, feeling rather alarmed at the sudden turn in mood. “...Sir, is something the- ”

  
The Inquisitor let himself quite literally collapse against the stone wall with an embarrassed noise from the middle of his throat. He covered his face with his hands.

 

“Rebecca and Talen have been circling each other for ages now, it's driving me crazy! They should just get on with it already. What's the point of just pretending nothing’s going on like that? It's a waste of time!”

  
Cullen pulled to a pause, staring at the Inquisitor with a stunned look. He blinked, and then, speaking slowly as a small, incredulous grin took form at the corners of his mouth, he asked, “Inquisitor… are you playing matchmaker?”

  
The Inquisitor just glowered at him, and Cullen burst into laughter.

  
What were they going to do with- -with such a strange boy like this? For one who apparently swore off all romance for himself, the Inquisitor was seemingly quite invested in the romance of others. It was an amusing thought, in the very least, but also rather- -sobering.

  
Cullen hadn't been aware that the Inquisitor made it a point to be so familiar with his people that he knew them each by individual name.

  
Oh, not all of them, certainly not, however; Cullen hadn’t exactly realized it until this very moment, but the Inquisitor had the peculiar habit of calling out to random passerbyers when out walking around Skyhold. He was also quite at home amongst the ranks of their soldiers. Learning so many names, and in such a short amount of time, especially when one didn't even know one's own name, was such a daunting task but Cullen now realized- 

  
The Inquisitor had done it without even noticing.

  
What kind of man had they elected as their leader, exactly?

  
Cullen shook his head to his his own quiet amazement, and took the Inquisitor by the shoulders. Hauling him back to his feet, the commander gave him a gentle shove and got him walking again.

  
“Now, Inquisitor, about that ambush scenario…”


	3. A guards liking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of the Inquisition loves their inquisitor very much.  
> Short chapter is very short.

“Yeah, it really would be best if we waited until the last minute to notify him,” he finished reluctantly. He let out a sigh and slung an arm around the guard familiarly.

  
A quiet and weary “love you,” managed to slip out when he set his cheek on the older man’s shoulder, purely out of habit, and the Inquisitor resisted the urge to bit his lip as he forced himself to stand and wait for the fallout.

  
The man seemed to go very still for quite some length of time, even going as far as to stop breathing entirely. It got to the point where the Inquisitor actually began to count the seconds that ticked by.

  
Eventually, after about twelve counts, he seemed to realize that his lungs had failed him, and attempted to take a large, subtle gulp of air.

  
Then, he turned to face the Inquisitor.

  
The Inquisitor blinked. This guy’s eyes were… sparkling?

  
“I-I love you too, my worship.”

  
The Inquisitor stared at him for a short moment, before he gave the obviously pleased (for whatever reason) guard a small smile and nuzzled his cheek against the man’s neck in a friendly snuggle, deciding against commenting on the use of “my” instead of “your.” 

 


	4. Our Get Along Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Cassandra are at it again, and this time the Inquisitor pulls from his knowledge of a past life to fix the problem of his growing headache...  
> Unbeta'd, as always.

Dorian's eye twitched dangerously. The two warrived were going at it again. If he were able, he would have moved back to his rooms or the library to hide away until they'd inevitably stomped off and began angrily ignoring each other.  
But, unfortunately, this Tevinter Mage was quite sure he could go to the other side of the castle and still be able to hear them loud and clear. So, in conclusion, such running away was a moot point. Sadly.  
"-on earth did you get it in your head that this held any semblance to a good idea? It doesn't! It so completely _stupid_ \- -"  
"Oh, and how else do you propose we make nice with the mages, Ser Politically Inclined? You are a military officer! You don't-"  
"And what does that make you, hm, Seeker? At least I have experience in dealing with a larger opinion-"  
"So now you are the public relations officer, is that it? Because I could have _sworn_ that was Josephine's job!"  
Dorian glanced over, mustache twitching irritably, just in time to catch sight of the Inquisitor himself rubbing wearily at his brow. The Mage frowned, feeling even more justified in his annoyance; the poor teenager already had enough to deal with, he didn't need his advisors, the ones who were suppose to guide him in making good decisions for the good of the organization and the war effort, squabbling like immature children. Dorian made to raise to his feet, intending to put a stop to this nonsense at once, when a loud clap broke the conversation and all eyes turned abruptly toward- -  
The Inquisitor, who was suddenly beaming rather excitedly, hands pressed together in the aftermath of his bid to gain attention. Seeing their stares, he graced them with a bright grin.  
"I," he intoned conspiringly, "just had the most wonderful idea. I'll be right back!"  
And just like that, their fearless leader raced out of the room like a shot from one of his personal ranged weapons.  
Dorian peered after him suspiciously, unsure of whether he actually had had an idea or was just looking for an excuse to flee the scene. Ah well, it didn't particularly matter. Cullen and Cassandra were quiet again, and for perhaps the next thirty seconds, too! What a lovely reprieve.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The guard of the dungeons blinked uncertainly at the Inquisitor as he perused the shelves, humming a gentle tune. His leader had accosted him almost excitedly, asking where they kept the shackles. He wasn't quite certain what the man was intending to do with them, but he looked far too eager for the guard to question him.  
"These ones," the Inquisitor suddenly commented, sounding rushed. He shoved a set of locks into the guard's face, nearly clanging them off of his helmet. The man leaned backwards and stared at the shackles somewhat uneasily, glancing at the Inquisitor with a questioning glance.  
The teen held up a key. "This goes to these ones, yes?"  
"Ah... yes, my worship."  
"Perfect," the Inquisitor nearly purred, dashing out the door once more with both shackles and key in tow.  
The guard stared after him for a moment, before slowly shaking his head and resuming his position.  
He didn't want to know.

 

* * *

 

 

"--if you would just open your eyes for one second, you see that clearly is not the case."  
"No, no! Don't give me that- -you’re the blind one! Can't you realize they're on the other side of the country?! That's--"  
"Oh, but it's fine if you use my men for all your little errands, is that what you're trying to say? They have duties, you know--"  
They were at it again. Dorian sighed, aggrieved. Seriously, it wasn't even a new topic. Just them attempting to debate (and he used that word very loosely) one of the Inquisition’s future movements and then hurling insults at one another in between when they didn't like what the other was saying.  
Honestly, at this point Dorian wouldn't mind taking the mission to the swamplands himself, just to get them to shut up already.  
"Ha!" Oh look, the Inquisitor was back! He was still smiling brightly, kind and merciful, even as his two advisors argued so loudly in the background. Such a darling boy. He deserved better. Oh? What was this?  
A loud clang, something turning in a tumble, metal against metal- -and suddenly Cassandra and Cullen both were silent. Dorian couldn't blame them, really. Even he was a bit speechless.  
The Inquisitor straightened up, dusting off his hands with a pleased look about him as he surveyed the pair of shackles he'd just used to latch his two quarreling advisors in. Together. To each other.  
"I-Inquisitor--!"  
"What is the meaning of --"  
"There," the Inquisitor purred, and this time Dorian and the advisors weren't the only ones to go silent. Something about the Inquisitor, in this instance, screamed... danger. Something they usually only got to witness in the deepest throes of battle. When the Inquisitor was particularly enraged.  
Shit, Dorian thought, feeling vaguely alarmed. They've really done it now.  
"I've locked you in," the Inquisitor said amiably, pleasant smile and straight shoulders and all. As if he wasn't incredibly pissed off. As if all was right in the world. As if Cullen and Cassandra were not, somehow, in trouble. He lifted a hand and showed them the key that was held loosely between his finger and thumb, as casual as could be.  
"And you're going to stay like that until you two somehow figure out a way to get along. "  
The smile disappeared, and his expression went utterly blank. Dorian knew he wasn't to only one there that experienced the cold shiver running down his spine.  
"If," the Inquisitor continued, still pleasantly (and wasn't that somehow just simply terrifying?), "you somehow managed to get out of those before I decide it’s time to unlock you..."  
That glance he cast at Dorian wasn't subtle in the least. Perhaps he hadn't intended it to be.  
"... I'll just have to find a better way of keeping you two together."  
Both Cullen and Cassandra’s eyes darted from the Inquisitor to Dorian and back, before they both blanched in realization.  
And then The Smile was back. The sight of it made the two advisors, shocked to speechlessness until now, visibly shudder.  
"...Am I clear?"  
"Yes, sir." It was Cullen who actually responded, immediately and almost with a crisp salute to go with it. Instinctively as it was, perhaps due to his years of military training kicking in to such an authoritative voice. He even made it halfway before pausing with a softly puzzled look on his face, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. The fist he'd tried to lift to his heart made the shackles clink, and jerked Cassandra’s own arm up to hit him in the stomach. The seeker beside him only gaped uncharacteristically.  
The Inquisitor asked sweetly, " _Cassandra_?"  
She blinked, then nodded vigorously, if a bit slowly.  
"Oh, wonderful. I'm glad you agree."  
Dorian mentally vowed to never piss the Inquisitor off.


	5. Perilous napping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor has a habit of napping in dangerous places. This does absolutely nothing good for his commander's blood pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shortish one. I mean, they're called drabbles for a reason, aren't they...?

“However minuscule the Templar presence in Skyhold is, it's making the majority of our mage population… very anxious, as I know you can imagine.”

  
Cullen went to reply, but was interrupted (why did everyone interrupt him?!) when Leliana’s mouth curved upward into a smile, and she let out a chuckle.

 

Covering her amusement with a dainty hand, she directed their attention up toward one of the taller of Skyhold’s towers.

  
Cullen, knowing the spymaster had a habit of picking out minute details that would later turn out to be of some importance, pivoted on his heel and peered in the direction the redhead was pointing to. Up near the top of the tower, on the outcropping below one of the deep, slit-like windows, a small figure was curled.

  
Asleep.

  
A few passerbys had joined them in gaping up at the (unfortunately familiar) scene, and Cullen heard a few exasperatedly fond smatters of laughter. There were just as many loud, pained noises of panic, however, and he happened to be of the latter.

  
Cullen swore, “Fucking hell, Inquisitor- !” and took off at a dead run into the depth of the fortress.

  
They all peered after him in a sparse moment of silence, before Leliana chuckled again.

  
She looked to the side and shared a conspiratorial smile with Varric. The dwarf smirked at her and held up eight fingers.

  
Cassandra, on the flip side, was rubbing tiredly at her face again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. In fact, it had been a newfound habit of hers, ever since she's met the Herald. The damned, reckless, infuriatingly lovely and compassionate boy. He was going to be the death of her.

  
Bull tilted his head to the side, thick horns gleaming under the clear sky and its bright yellow sun. “How many times d’ya figure this makes it, then?” He asked his lieutenant.

  
Krem quirked his lips to the side and, roguish voice unfaltering, promptly answered, “I’ve counted three, chief. This monto, at least.”

  
“Cullen needs to sit back and relax.” From beside the man, Skinner curled her lips into an amused grin. “Or, ‘least let the poor Inquisi’ relax. Brother looks like he could use a nice, long nap.”

  
“Well, he won't be getting one of those, if the commander keeps waking him up before he can fall asleep.” The blacksmith’s apprentice joined in on the conversation with a huff, crossing his arms. He and several of the other civilians gathered now took on looks of irritation toward Cullen, probably on their precious Inquisitor’s behalf.

  
That was, of course, not to say they weren't grateful, either. The Inquisitor had the unfortunate habit of taking his naps in rather… perilous locations. Such as to say, in the window of one of the tallest towers...

  
Josephine had opened her mouth to add her own comment, but snaps it closed with a sudden smile as a startled yelp sounded from above all their heads. They gazed up to find the the dozing figure had been dragged back into the safety of the tower proper, the two stained glass panes that decorated the opening slammed(gently) shut. They wouldn't lie to themselves and think that Cullen hadn't locked it as well. If measures weren't taken, they knew their esteemed leader would soon find a way to get back on that sill, even if they tried to deter him. Past instances spoke for him.

  
Although, if it had been up to Cullen- none of them held within themselves any doubt that the commander wouldn’t have boarded up all the windows by now, and they’d be living in darkness indoors.

  
Cassandra cleared her throat pointedly, and they all found themselves turning their stares on Varric, who'd remained silent through the entire event.

  
He graces them with a mirthful smirk. “Forty six seconds.”

  
Bull whistled, and even his chargers looked impressed. “Damn, blondie definitely booked it.”

  
“Considering all those staircases and hallways to maneuver…” Krem snickered. “Must be a new record, aye?”

 


	6. Play nice for the boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not everyone in the Inquisition gets along, and it's not just the advisors.

The Inquisitor smiled benevolently. "The weather's perfect today. We should have no problem organizing that ambush, right Captain Amani?"

  
Said Captain straightened slightly and gave a pleasant nod, lips twitching upwards. "Of course, your worship. Shall we get started on that now?"

  
"...Yes," the teen murmured thoughtfully, eyes roaming around the forward campsite in search of something, before lighting up as they came to rest on one specific person. The captain followed his gaze, and stiffened. Subtly.

  
"Yes," the Inquisitor repeated, smile brilliant and bright. "Take Captain Reuso and two platoons to set up as soon as possible. Reuso!"

  
The aforementioned man came over, giving a fond grin as he came to a stop beside the Inquisitor. He caught Amani's eye, however, and his expression darkened imperceptibly.

  
"Yes, your worship?"

  
"I want you and Amani here to take out two contingents of our people to set an ambush for that Venatori advancement Scout Harding's people spotted earlier. Is that ok?"

  
"Yes," Reuso somehow managed to make the word pleasant despite it coming out through gritted teeth. "Shouldn't be a problem, my Inquisitor."

  
"We'll get right to it, _my_ Inquisitor," Amani agreed amiably, and the two captains narrowed their eyes at one another.

  
The Inquisitor, bless his heart and soul, didn't seem to notice anything amiss and, after watching happily as the two of them shook hands, turned around and rushed away, most likely to find that huge Quanari mercenary friend of his to see if the guy wanted to go hunt a dragon again or something.

  
As soon as he was out of sight, the two men lunged for each other's throats.

  
"I... heavily dislike you."

  
"- mutual."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief use of OCs, any names you don't recognize belong to me.


	7. Stargazing with Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and the sky have always been a pair. Like the moon is never seen without stars.  
> The problem is, the universe is just so big, and Dorian's always hated feeling small.

It was later on, after the fact, when Dorian stood alone on the outside terrace and stared up at the sky with a face devoid of any of the emotions that constantly warred within him, that the Inquisitor joined him on the low stone bench to gaze upward with deep eyes full of a strange wanting that would leave anyone who saw them very nearly breathless.

  
Dorian found his own eyes drawn to his friend, if only for the bare observation of the calm, serene smile that played across his lips. It was a rare day to see their dutiful, hardworking Inquisitor smile as if he hadn't a care in the world. It settled something deep inside Dorian’s chest, as if that smile took hold of some raging storm and calmed it with less than a glimpse.

  
He turned them back to the beautiful night sky, and found that it suddenly lacked something. Something the Inquisitor’s eyes held, that the sky did not.

  
That didn't make it any less breathtaking. He gazed up at the deep dark navy plane, sprinkled generously with pinpricks of fire and dashes of roiling colors. The moon hung there as always; constant and forever watching, just as the Inquisitor had earlier described.

  
Dorian’s thoughts escape him once again as he looked upon these features with this new perspective, and he found himself speaking in a low, barely audible whisper.

  
“Do you think they all might be suns?”

  
The Inquisitor shifted on the cool stone, soft face turning to him. “Hm?”

  
“The stars.” Dorian breathed, gaze still enraptured. “Do you wonder if, perhaps, they all have their own Thedas? Each of them, so far away, with their very own planets circling around them…”

  
He trailed off, suddenly feeling so utterly, inexplicably small. It was a hollow thought- -or perhaps, it was a thought so big that he wasn't able to feel it all. So large, all-encompassing, as if it was alike to the universe above their heads, that held the stars and them.

  
Warmth pressed against his side, embraced his arm, and the Inquisitor's pale, artist hands were wrapped around his own. Dorian tore his gaze away from the terrifying eternity above him and cast his friend a look.

  
The Inquisitor smiles, pearly teeth flashing in the moonlight glow. “Not all stars,” he said, voice just barely there, “but… enough of them. Yes.”

  
Dorian’s soul was stretched thin. It felt like it was trying to leave him, to escape into the vast expanse of nothing and everything that was out there to find. It tugged and tugged at him, trying to take him with it. It couldn't leave without him, because it was him, but Dorian could feel it's longing. Oh, yes, Dorian could feel it pulling at him, his heart, trying to reach out for the thousands upon thousands of suns that rested up in the sky, as if it could somehow capture them and keep them in itself.

  
It couldn't, Dorian now realized. The universe was just… too big to be contained at all. He felt a shudder make its way, icily, down his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae until it was melting it’s chilling breath out across his lower back. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to find the sheer heat of the fire that was always, constantly there. It seemed startlingly lacking, this night.

  
Lacking, just like everything else. Him, his friends, his people. His planet. Everything. It seemed so…

  
A quiet chuckle broke into his thoughts, and Dorian gladly turned his attention back onto the Inquisitor. Any distraction, now, was a good one.

  
“What?” He asked, curious as to what had caused the amusement to unfurl across the younger male’s face like smoke over a newborn fire. “What is it?”

  
The Inquisitor hefted a breathy laugh, before standing up. He circled around the bench, much like the dance he had done earlier in explaining how the skies worked, but smaller. He came to stop behind Dorian, and leaned forward into the Tevinter mage’s back, lithe arms curling about his shoulders as he bent to rest his cheek to Dorian’s own.

  
“You, Dorian,” he said, pressing all-consuming warmth into him. The Inquisitor, Dorian had found, was a flame unlike anything his own magic could ever hope to conjure. “So very, very small.” The cheek nuzzled against his. “And so very there.”

  
“... What, pray tell, is that even suppose to mean?” Dorian questioned, somehow feeling as if he was the stupid one, despite his friend’s statement not making a lick of sense.

  
The Inquisitor huffed slightly, silently. He leaned forward, twisted around and gaze into his eyes with a knowing smile that flitted across his mouth like a gliding falcon.

  
“Don't you realize it, Dorian? Every single one thing in this universe, down to the very tiniest speck of dust, is there for a reason. It has a purpose, a meaning that nothing and no one else could ever hope to imagine to define. Just one part of the larger system, a system that needs every single one of its components to run the way that it was intended to.” The Inquisitor slid down next to him, then, and leaned into his side once more.

  
“You are no exception, my friend. Small you may perhaps be, in the grand scheme of things that are, everything that is… but that doesn't make you any less essential. If you were not meant to be here then you, very simply, would not be.” The Inquisitor turned and pressed his face into Dorian’s shoulder, arms again coming to encircle him in that wonderful sort of warmth that left Dorian’s magic writhing in envy. Dorian resisted the urge to sigh, blissfully.

  
“I'm glad that you are, Dorian.” The Inquisitor murmured into his shoulder, fond and so very direct. “I love you so.”

  
That, Dorian was quite sure, was what caused his walls to come tumbling right down. He was trembling, at least, and Dorian of house Pavus just didn't do that.

  
The mage stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them, willing them to cease their shaking. He felt that thickness crawling up his throat from his lungs, his chest, stung at the corner of his eyes and burned, and desperately wished it gone.

  
Hands, gentle and so like the moon, came to hold his still, and Dorian was grateful. He raised his head and looked the Inquisitor in the eyes- -and broke.

  
“Shh, Dorian. There is no shame to cry. It's healthy, even.” His friend, his best friend, whispered to him as he hugged him close, and Dorian thought that there wasn't anyplace else he'd rather be than right here, right now. With him, in Skyhold, under the stars and the very, very big sky full of everything that Dorian didn't understand. And for once, that was okay.

 


	8. The Dawnguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a Templar Tower in Skyhold now, and the mages don’t feel safe. 
> 
> There are many within even the Inquisition who would say that the Gray Wardens have dishonored themselves and their vows with their ill-advised and desperate scheme. 
> 
> The Templar Order is as good as disbanded, especially in light of recent discoveries, but it’s all they’ve ever devoted themselves to, and Templars have always had a hard time of letting go. 
> 
> The Inquisitor plans to kill three birds with one stone.

“Why’s it gotta be a Templar tower? It was us mages who came to the Inquisition’s aide and closed the Breach, not them!”

  
“Having that banner, looming over our heads… brings back memories of the Circle, y’know?”

  
“Should have known. What's next, the Skyhold Templar garrison? We will never be free of it, will we?”

  
The Inquisitor paused in his step, squeezing his eyes closed tiredly as he lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He released a slow, quiet sigh as if it were being forcefully pressed from his lungs.

  
Cullen and Cassandra, who had been walking with him toward the war room, stopped three paces ahead of him when they realized he was no longer with them, and turned back to frown at him.

  
“Inquisitor?” Cassandra questioned hesitantly. “Are you… alright?”

  
The redhead blinked over at her and, seeing that Cullen too awaited his answer, posed a question. “How are our Warden friends settling in?”

  
The commander seemed confused as to why they were discussing this here, and not at their destination, but answered nonetheless. “The general mood surrounding their… conscription into the Inquisition is turbulent at best. We’ve many here who consider the Grey Wardens thieves for their ancient treaties, but more who are simply grateful toward their sacrifice in stopping the Blights. That was before this entire blood magic mess. The differing opinions are now far more evenly divided than ever.”

  
“There are some who wish you’d chosen to exile the Wardens, back at Adamant Fortress,” Cassandra added, still eyeing their leader with concern. “Some, of course, welcome the Wardens and their numbers with open arms. More, however, see them as having gone back on their vows to protect, and consider them dishonoured because of their participation in the ritual. It does not do well for good relations within the Inquisition.”

  
“Add that to the already tremulous rivalry between our mages and Templars, and we've made quite a mess of things in recruiting into the organization.”

  
“It wasn't a mistake,” the Inquisitor replied hotly, causing his advisor’s brows to raise, and they exchanged a glance. He wasn't normally one to snap like this. “To recruit the Wardens. That was the best thing for them; for _all_ of the Inquisition. Everyone here wants to _help_. It's the one things they all have in common. Can't we work off of that? Can't the Templars and mages see past their prejudices for once, and focus on the common enemy?”

  
“Like the Wardens?” Cassandra asked wryly, crossing her arms. “Because, at the moment, that's the way things are heading.”

  
“No, not…” the inquisitor shook his head, rubbing his face with his open hands.

 

Cullen and Cassandra exchanged worries frowns. Perhaps their leader was working too hard, lately. He had enough to consider already, he didn't need to deal with the childish feuds between their numbers on top of that.

  
“I have an idea,” the Inquisitor eventually sighed out, leaning back against the stone wall that supported the staircase leading into the main hall and Inquisition throne. “But… I'm not sure if either of you are going to like it. It's the only thing I can think of to get them all to work together.”

  
He paused, eyeing their commander with a piercing gaze. “In fact, I'm quite certain Cullen will hate it.”

  
“... I will endeavour to focus on the bigger picture,” the commander assured him reluctantly. “Any idea you have must be better than their squabbling.”

 

…

 

“Inquisitor... I must insist you rethink this! You simply can't be serious!”

  
“I am, Cullen,” the redhead told him, grimly. “I want to disband the Templar Order within the Inquisition.”

  
“Are you… certain of this?” Cassandra asked, concern pinching her brow. “I can see the merit, of course, but Cullen does have a point. The idea of the Order is the only thing many of our Templars can hold on to. Everything else has been taken from them.”

  
“The idea of the order is one of those things, Cassandra. They must realize this, somewhere inside them. There hasn't been a Templar Order for months, and it isn't healthy to keep on like this. Especially if it is straining relations with what should be their comrades!”

  
“And about that, what did you mean by “discontinuing the Rebellion?”

  
The Inquisitor hopped up onto the war table, pulling his legs up with him and crossing them over each other as he gave the large map spread behind him a cursory glance.

  
“Technically, the Rebellion dissolved back before we even closed the Breach. Their numbers merged with that of the Inquisition, and they are now the Inquisition. It's been nearly a year. Many of them have come to consider Skyhold their home- however temporary it may eventually be. The mages have given up the idea of their own collective, because they have come to realize it is a thing of the past. It's time for the Templars to do the same. And, I was thinking, it's the perfect way to ease tensions with the Wardens as well. Kill three birds with one stone!”

  
Cullen nearly collapsed against the wall, hand darting out to catch himself on the window sill. He stared incredulously over at the leader of their organization, stunned. “You're serious. You want to- to disband the Templars and- and create a new order?”

  
The Inquisitor frowned. “Not a new order… more of a guard.”

  
Suddenly, he brightened, and a halfway mischievous look overtook his face. “We can call it the Dawnguard!” He appeared absolutely delighted at the prospect, as if it were a secret joke that only he knew. Teal eyes glittered at them.

  
“This is…” Cassandra shook her head bemusedly. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but… it is not an entirely bad idea…?”

  
Cullen groaned, and buried his face into his hands.

  
“Call all three of the concerned parties to gather. Time to disband some groups to make a new one!”

 

…

 

The Templars and Mages huddled at opposite corners of the courtyard, glaring at one another with dark eyes. Those of the Wardens currently at Skyhold were crowded in the middle of them, shifting uneasily at the poisonous gazes of both parties.

  
The three groups straightened as much as they dared in the presence of their nemesis’ when the doors of the Main Hall banged open to admit their Inquisitor to the top of the stone steps. Their animosity with one another lessened slightly in the face of how irritated the young man looked, and they glanced at one another, wondering what they had done to possibly anger their leader.

  
The Inquisitor wasn't usually one to be truly angry with any of his people. It was one of the things they all loved about him, how understanding he was in the face of most difficulties.

  
However, he didn't look like he'd be so understanding this afternoon.

  
The mages quickly sent accusing looks across the yard to the Templars, who did the same in recompense. The Wardens between them gulped nervously and prayed that the Inquisitor, the kind and merciful Inquisitor who'd given them a second chance after all they'd done, hadn't changed his mind and was about to evict them of their new post.

  
“You all!” The Inquisitor frowned down at them from the break in the steps, crossing his arms over his chest like an incensed parent looking over unruly children. All three groups hunch their shoulders, trying to puzzle out what they'd done.

  
“Templars and mages especially!” The Wardens relaxed slightly. He still looked angry, but at least it wasn't with them. Right? “Do you have any idea what you've done to the very idea of unity within the Inquisition ranks?”

  
The accused parties stopped glaring at each other, and settled on looking sheepish and guilty.

  
The Inquisitor continued. “I know you don't like each other. And I know you both- yes, both of you- have perfectly good reasons for that. But this animosity between you will stop today. The Inquisition has been in action for almost eleven months. That's plenty of time to at least decide to overlook your differences and form tentative working relationships. I'm not asking you all to get married to each other, but I'm sick of hearing the hatred. It's going to stop, and it's going to stop now. Today, I'm going to make you get along.”

  
The Wardens gazed up at him with wide eyes, wondering what miracle the Herald would possibly pull to make the two groups actually get along. Were they about to see divine intervention from the Maker’s own will?

  
Meanwhile, the mages and Templars remained silent but confused. What would their Inquisitor do? A few scattered whispers mentioned the “get-along chain” and several warriors shuddered. Everyone had heard of the incident when their revered leader had locked two of his own advisors together until they’d ceased their arguing. Nobody really wanted to be the ones in those shackles themselves.

  
“Templars, as of today, the order within the Inquisition is disbanded.”

  
Silence rang out at this announcement. Even the bystanders and merchants watching the debacle couldn't find the words to murmur. Nobody could speak. Disband the Templar Order? What?

  
Abruptly, the mages began whispering excitedly and triumphantly amongst themselves. This was a victory! The Inquisitor was on their side! He was crushing their enemies right in front of their eyes.

  
“I-Inquisitor please!” One of the Templars near the front finally managed to call out, sounding desperate. “You can't do this! Please!”

  
The Inquisitor’s frown softened as he looked down at him.

  
“I know how important it is to all of you, Renard,” he admitted, and the soldier ducked his head, embarrassed that the Inquisitor had seen it fit to remember his name. “But I know there is one thing that is more important. Let me ask you, why did you join the Templars? Long story, if you please.”

  
Nobody spoke as Renard gathered his words. The mages peered suspiciously across the courtyard at him, but were nonetheless curious of his answer.

  
He finally spoke, to a rapt audience. “I...my brother,” Renard winced. “He was a mage.”

  
The confession sent a ripple of murmuring throughout the courtyard, and Renard hung his head, staring down at his fists, which were clenched tightly before him. The Inquisitor called for silence, and he continued.

  
“He was ten years younger than me, just a little boy. But he was powerful. He had the most…” Renard chuckled wetly, “the most peculiar dreams, and every night he'd wake me in the middle of it just to tell me of his adventures… but one day, it became too much for him. We'd been trying to get him help, someone to mentor him. But, our uncle was a Templar, and no Mage would dare even speak to us- there was trouble at the local Circle that made sending him impossible during the time. One night, my brother went to sleep, and… and he just didn't wake me up. Well,” Renard rubbed furiously at his eyes, angry. “He did, but it wasn't my brother anymore. He'd become an abomination. He would have torn the house to shreds, along with me and our mother if my uncle hadn't… hadn't, well, done his Templar duty.”

  
The courtyard was silent, everyone mulling over the man’s admittance. The Templar beside him clapped a comforting hand on Renard’s shaking shoulder.

  
“That's why I followed in his footsteps,” Renard raised his head, looking up at the Inquisitor with determination shining in his damp eyes. “I wanted to protect the mages that were like my brother. I wanted to find those that no one was willing to help and take them to the Circles, so that they could keep their own loved ones safe. That's why I became a Templar, to protect.”

  
“And did you join the Inquisition for similar reasons?” The Inquisitor asked quietly.

  
“The entire world was falling to hell,” Renard told him, all of them. “The Inquisition was, is, the only thing out there that’s doing anything to help.”  
The Inquisitor nodded and, without giving anyone time to gather their thoughts, called out to the mages.

  
“Vali! You were a circle Mage for three years before becoming an apostate for five. Why did you join the Inquisition? It was for reasons not unlike those Renard became a Templar for, was it not? And yet, you proclaim to hate his kind.”

  
Vali the Mage said nothing, only ducking his head and wiping furiously at his eyes, clearly having been hit hard by Renard’s story.

  
“This attitude in unacceptable.” The Inquisitor informed hem. Behind him, at his back, stood the Commander and Seeker Cassandra, faces resolute and unrelenting. At the sight of their Commander’s apparent support of the Inquisitor’s announcement, all fight seemed to leave the gathered Templars, and they found themselves despondent. The Order was their entire livelihood, practically their religion. Without the vows they held themselves to, how would they protect anyone now?

  
“In a similar case, I am also declaring our mages to no longer be apostates.”

  
“Y-you're making us a Circle?” one Mage was quick on the uptake, and now stared up at him almost fearfully. “At Skyhold?”

This caused an unsettled murmur to overtake the gathered mages. 

  
“Absolutely not.” The Inquisitor out their unease to rest, and only left confusion in its wake. “But you are now something more than apostates. You also protect the weary, do you not? That is the Inquisition’s goal.”

  
Suddenly, he smiled. “Did you know, that we have an even number of both mages and Templars in our recruitments?”

  
Shivers went down spines, and cold feelings arose within chests. Nobody liked the sound of where this was going.

  
“This makes it so easy!” The Inquisitor told them, brightly, cheerfully, as if he was about to fix all their problems. Or, _his_ problems.

  
“Because none of you can seem to get along and make friends on your own, I'll have to help you, won't I. One Templar, one Mage, and one Warden. A group of three. This will be your unit from now until the Inquisition is no longer needed. You will do your missions together, you will eat together, you will train together, vigorously, and you will bunk together. There will be no exceptions. Remember, it is because of your stubbornness that you forced my hand. Do you all understand?”

  
Nobody looked at all happy, and there were several outcries against the idea, but as the Inquisitor gazed down at them sternly, arms crossed and not giving in an inch, they quieted. Finally, he received nods from all parties.

  
(The Wardens almost immediately agreed, hoping for anything to please the Inquisitor. He's saved them, after all, and this was a fantastic idea to help them transition into the Inquisition forces! The Inquisitor was a genius!)

  
“Very good. You will henceforth be called the Dawnguard. Within the Dawnguard, there are no Templars, and there are no Mages. You will learn to appreciate each other as comrades-in-arms, as you protect the people. I hope you to be an elite guard within the forces of the Inquisition. Are you up for it?”

  
Several of them, even the unhappy mages and morose Templars, chuckled wryly. Leave it to their Inquisitor to ask if they were comfortable with his demands even as he gave them no choice but to cooperate. He received several nods and salutes.

  
“Excellent! Report to Commander Cullen for your new assignments, he and the Inquisition Lieutenants have the information about your teammates and your quarters. And, yes, that includes Lt. Aclassi.”

  
Krem stepped up from among the other Lieutenants gathered at the front entrance, and gave them all a sharp grin. Several of the newly appointed Dawnguard, both mages and Templars, waved at him in subdued greeting.

  
The Inquisitor continued. “Lt. Aclassi here will be spearheading the Dawnguard. He and Captain Ross are your new supervisors. Retire to your quarters with your team, spend the rest of your day getting to know each other, and report to your superiors in the training grounds at 0500 tomorrow morning. Know that if there are any fights or injuries to be had because of your animosity,” the Inquisitor's eyes narrowed, and several flinched back from the surprisingly lethal glare, “I will find out, and I will be most unhappy. You will not like the consequences.”

  
“Yes, my worship,” was the general consensus.

  
As usual, the fond title sent at him immediately melted the glare away and brought up a slightly pink tinge to the young redhead’s cheeks. The tension in the air dissolved instantly as several chuckled warmly at the sight.

  
“I will leave you to your new duties. Do not disappoint me, I'm putting a lot of faith in all of you considering past incidents.”

  
He received grim salutes from them all. They understood the seriousness of the matter, even if many of them didn't like the occasion.

  
As they crowded around the Lieutenants for their assignments, and Cullen went to join them, the dwarf Varric could be heard quietly commenting to the Inquisitor as they disappeared back into the Main Hall.

  
“Let's hope this doesn't blow up in all of our faces.”

  
He wasn't quiet enough. How was he to know the newly appointed Dawnguard would take his obviously lack of faith in their ability to work together as a challenge? 


End file.
